


This Is Our Last Night

by TheCriminal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Curses, Flashbacks, Lumatere Chronicles AU, M/M, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Sterek Week 2016, scene stealer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCriminal/pseuds/TheCriminal
Summary: “I’ve been waiting for you all night and day.” The words came from Stiles the Ice Prince. It sent a shiver down Derek’s body to know that this version of Stiles had been waiting for him, had been anticipating his arrival. And then he winked.“Did I do that right?” he asked. His smile was lopsided and Derek saw a glimpse of teeth.And Derek imagined that he would follow him to the ends of the earth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lumatere Chroincles (Froi of the Exiles) au for Sterek Week Scene Stealer day  
> Stiles is Quintana, Derek is Froi
> 
> [tumblr](http://kilaem.tumblr.com)  
> (will probably expand this into a full au later)

There was too much on Derek’s mind. He only had a day left for his mission, after that his choice wouldn’t matter-he was an alpha, and he had a duty to his kingdom. He could not fail, not where all others had. Part of Derek hated the lie, hated that he was betraying his family, his King and Queen, but another part of him wanted to stay and help. He knew from the moment he met Stiles of Charyn that he could not kill the boy, that he was too lost inside his own mind to be much of a threat to Lumatere.

But he was the Cursebreaker. He was the Lastborn omega, and if he became pregnant, Charyn would thrive once again. Derek had thought that if he dragged his task on, either until the Day of Weeping or refusing to bed Stiles until he consented, out of more than just duty, he could keep the boy alive while also ensuring the curse remained intact. It would take a Lastborn alpha to break the curse, and if the real Olivier of Beacon had been it, then the curse would remain unbroken for all time. The real Olivier would never have the opportunity to bed Stiles before his eighteenth birthday, and the Lastborn omega would remain as infertile as the people of Charyn.

“You’re going tomorrow,” Stiles said quietly, watching Derek from the doorway. His eyes were sharp, usually indicating the Ice Prince instead of the Regent. “Without having planted the seed.”

Derek frowned, gritting his teeth at the prospect. Deep down he wanted Stiles to be of a sound mind, but each time the omega mentioned the planting of the seed he knew he was nothing more than a half-mad boy.

“If you fulfill the prophecy, we will let you kiss me,” Stiles offered, like it would help in Derek’s decision.

“A kiss is the prize? Even more than giving me the rest of you? It should be the other way round, Prince. In the real world, it’s called courting. You let an alpha kiss you and then you offer him more.”

“Let me tell you something, Olivier, this is my real world,” Stiles spoke bluntly, though Derek could hear the waver in his voice.

The sound of footsteps on the staircase gives Derek pause, only to have a familiar face appear at Stiles’ side. Derek knew the man was suspicious of him, it was only a matter of time before he was found out. “Has Olivier said something to distress you?” John of Stilinski asks, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder, his face twisting in sadness and anger at the sight Prince’s wide eyes welling with tears.

“He has a wicked tongue, Sir John,” Stiles answers, leaning into the man’s touch on his shoulder.

Derek knows it’s a rarity to have someone touch him so kindly, and he tries to whenever they’re alone together, but it will always depend on which Stiles is present at the time. Part of him aches at seeing Stiles lean into the man’s touch.

“Pity it’s not in our power to cut it out then,” John says carefully, watching Derek, fire behind his eyes.

 

* * *

For the rest of the day, Stiles’ words rang in his head. ‘ _This is my real world._ ’ And Derek couldn’t deny it. Every time Stiles had taken Derek by surprise, Derek knew that it wasn’t as he thought it was-not for Stiles, in any case. And Stiles was right.

There was so much he didn’t understand, so much he had taken for granted, despite the childhood of suffering he had lived in the Exiles. Before his friends had saved him. He lost himself to the memories that day.

 

_“She was crying from pleasure,” Derek explains under his breath, still trying to pull Stiles away from the couple._

_“That’s a lie,” Stiles argues, the Ice Prince glare in full force._

_“No, it’s the truth. People enjoy touching each other. Holding each other. Mating. Since the time of the Ancients, lovers have enjoyed it.”_

_Yet still, he has to use his alpha strength to hold Stiles back from attacking the man back in the caves._

_“Is that what you tell yourself, Olivier? To make yourself feel better about what you’re doing to an omega? Do you convince yourself that they’re enjoying themselves?” Stiles all but yells, shoving his hand against Derek’s chest._

_“And what of you? Lifting your nightshirt in your chamber, convincing yourself that it’s a sacrifice for Charyn when it's nothing more than a need to ease your loneliness because no one in this godforsaken kingdom cares whether you live or die!” He regretted it immediately, but he could not take the words back, unable to form a sentence at the storm in Stiles’ eyes._

_Derek knew what the people called the boy. His Royal Awfulness. The Mad Prince. The Vessel. Stiles the Whore. And Derek had thrown it back in his face._

_“Ease my loneliness?” He hissed. “If i wanted to ease my loneliness, Olivier, I would have asked my father for a kitten, not whored myself out for Charyn.”_

_“I’ve been waiting for you all night and day.” The words came from Stiles the Ice Prince. It sent a shiver down Derek’s body to know that this version of Stiles had been waiting for him, had been anticipating his arrival._

_And then he winked._

_“Did I do that right?” he asked. His smile was lopsided and Derek saw a glimpse of teeth._

_And Derek imagined that he would follow him to the ends of the earth._

_“I practised. I have a good memory for detail.”_

_“Say that again.”_

_“I have a good memory for detail,” Stiles repeated._

_“_ You _do, do you? Not ‘we’? Not the Regent? Not the Prince? Not the other? So what name should I use?”_

_For a moment Derek thought he was losing him back to the coldness. Stiles looked away, refusing to say his name before he began to shuffle the cards they stole from market. Derek was growing to enjoy the way his eyes squinted and his mouth twisted as he concentrated hard. Sometimes Derek heard him murmur to himself, and he wanted to creep inside Stiles’ head and join in his madness._

_He didn’t know why he did it. He just wanted to see Stiles’ face, if he would be impressed or not, if he had seen anyone juggle before. But the way Stiles’ eyes lit with warmth was worth remembering how he learnt it-the childhood of begging and stealing and performing all so he could eat. Seeing Stiles’ lips part into a smile made it all worth it._

_Derek bit into the apple he was holding with a grin, holding back the laughter when Stiles’ eyes went wide and offended, reaching for the apple. Derek held it out of his reach, tossing one of the other apples at him, but it was ignored in favour of Stiles trying to grab Derek’s apple. He held it further away, and then Stiles took him by surprise. He climbed onto him and straddled him, reaching for the apple to pry it from Derek’s grip._

_Stiles leaned over him, apple in hand, but Derek was tense as their loins almost joined, and at the dip in Stiles’ loose nightshirt revealing a glimpse of smooth pale chest, Derek’s control over his body failed. Suddenly Stiles jumped away, staring at him with fury._

_“Well you can’t climb all over me and expect it to just lie there,” Derek snapped, frustrated with how quick Stiles would be to interpret and react without explanation._

_“A good game is a fast game, Derek,” Stiles shrugged, taking another bite of the game prize-one of the other apples._

_Derek paused and looked up at him, wondering if he’d just imagined it. “What did you call me?”_

_“That was the name you gave the dealer,” Stiles frowned, his voice confused, watching Derek as if he wasn’t sure he had done something wrong._

_Derek couldn’t explain how good it was to hear him speak his name. But it was not the place, nor the time. He changed the subject. “Would I have won if I played the Regent?”_

_“He’s the one with the better memory,” Stiles nods, looking down at the card pile, before turning that careful stare back onto Derek. “Are you going to plant the seed or should I just blow out the candle and say good night?”_

_“Do you come to me willing?” Derek replied easily, his gaze as unwavering as Stiles’._

_Stiles tore his eyes away, storming over to the candles to blow them out himself. Derek sighed when he climbed out the window that night, Stiles’ back turned towards him._

_“Do you love Talia?” Derek asked one night, lying beside Stiles as they stare at the ceiling, both waiting for Stiles to fall back to sleep after his nightmare had awoken them._

_“Despite the fact that she’s not my mother?” Stiles asks, confusion in his voice. “How is it that she spoke to you of such things?”_

_“Oh, you know. She opened her mouth and words came out,” Derek said, unable to keep from rolling his eyes._

_“We have an understanding with Talia,” Stiles said, not giving Derek any idea what he could mean._

_“So we’re back to ‘we’, are we?” Derek sighed. “Sometimes this bed gets too crowded. I’m going back to sleep. Send one of the others to wake me up later. I like you the least.”_

_There was a brief moment of silence, and for a moment Derek is sure Stiles is asleep. And then it’s shattered by his quiet voice. “Is it because we’re not beautiful?”_

_“What?”_

_“That you don’t want to save us… or plant the seed.” Derek groans, exhausted, but there’s no stopping him. “In the book of the Ancients, the omegas are always beautiful and they always get saved and alphas always want to swive them.”_

_Derek sat up, cringing at the harsh word Stiles insists on using instead of ‘mate’, pulling Stiles up with him, and refused to break eye contact. “I’m only going to say this once and only once, are you listening?”_

_“Only this once,” Stiles nods, and it makes Derek want to smile._

_“In the world outside this palace, men and women don’t go around speaking of planting seeds and swiving,” he says, holding Stiles’ hand even as his brows dip into a frown._

_“What is it called in the outside world then?” Stiles asks, confused._

_“It’s not spoken of. It’s just done. It’s felt. I personally have nothing against the word, but if you spoke it aloud, you would be judged.”_

Saved _. The word rings in Derek’s ears, and he reaches over to touch a thumb to Stiles’ face. But he flinches and pushes his hand away, lying back down on the bed and giving Derek his back. Derek follows, his eyes trained on the ceiling, unable to dispel the word. In all his talk of Lastborns and seed planting, neither of the Stiles’ had ever spoken of being saved. Derek couldn’t help thinking of the fear in his expression outside the soothsayer’s cave. The weariness in Stiles’ voice when he spoke to Derek of staying alive. Then there were his words to the woman in the caves._ The prophecy says that only the Regent can break the curse. Only him. Not the innocent. _Why would Stiles not consider himself innocent? Worse still, he couldn’t get the words from John of Stilinski and Talia of Hale out of his mind._

_That Stiles would not live past his coming of age._

 

The feast that night was uneventful, but Derek was quieter than usual, thoughts still playing in his head. He could not stop watching Stiles, ever so quiet when surrounded by his family and members of the Court.

Even with his insanity, with each sharp word spoken, Derek could not help but love him. How this half-mad omega had crawled under his skin was beyond Derek, but he would not change it even if he could. He had made his decision.

Even with what he knew now, if he had a chance to change it, he would not. And if he was punished for refusing to kill Stiles of Charyn, then so be it.

 

* * *

  

Derek saw the flicker of light from where Stiles was blowing out the last of the candles. When Stiles saw him standing on the balconette, he walked to the doors and opened them, as was this dance that Derek had created every time he climbed over to Stiles’ balconette. Derek didn’t have the time to do this dance. He wanted Stiles, nothing more.

As Stiles went to say his name, Derek held up a hand. He couldn’t bear the word _Olivier_ coming from his lips. Not tonight.

“First I’m going to use my hands and then I’m going to use my mouth,” Derek explained quietly, watching Stiles carefully. The flush on his cheeks as Derek spoke, the soft brush of the omega’s fingers on Derek’s hand, “and then you are going to teach me to be gentle and I’ll show you that not all men share your bed because it’s destined by the gods, or written on the stone walls of this prison of yours. I’ve never had a lover and nor have you. So let’s be the first for each other.”

Derek could not stop himself from catching Stiles’ face between his hands, gently thumbing the skin under Stiles’ eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing him hard.

As Derek stepped away, he saw the hesitation in Stiles’ eyes and cursed himself. _Wait, Derek. Wait._

Stiles seemed to be struggling to find his words, biting his lip before he opened his mouth. “I don’t come to you pure.”

Derek’s face softened, his heart aching at the uncertain tone. He shook his head. “Not interested in your purity. Only willingness.”

Derek tried to swallow passed the lump in his throat, knowing that if Stiles followed the steps of their usual routine, Derek would not be able to do it. He would climb back over to his balcony, to his room with John of Stilinski, and Derek will spend his last night in Charyn alone, and his dreams will linger on a kiss. As Stiles sat on the edge of his bed, Derek’s heart thudded in his chest as Stiles pulled his nightshirt to his thighs-Derek would take his leave. He would face the rejection and leave-but then Stiles followed the movement through and pulled the slip over his head. Derek felt like he couldn’t breathe as Stiles stood, dropping his nightshirt to the ground.

He met Derek’s eyes, his pale body seeming even paler in the moonlight, and Derek could not look away. He was the most beautiful creature Derek had ever laid eyes upon, even as those in both their kingdoms spurned him. How Derek had thought the same when he first met Stiles, he’d never know, because having him stand before him and fully _wanting_ was the greatest gift Derek could ask for.

Stiles’ unsure touch on Derek’s hip spurred him into action, Derek pulling off his own clothes so they could see each other like this for the first time.

It was music to Derek’s ears when he heard Stiles’ breath catch, his fingers gently raising up to trace over his chest.

Derek’s hands went to Stiles’ hips and then he lifted the omega to him, felt his legs clasp around his waist as Stiles curled his arms around Derek’s neck, his breath on his lips as Derek knelt on the bed, laying him down underneath him, kissing each mole that Derek passed, before pressing a kiss to Stiles’ heart. Gently as he could, he placed his hands on Stiles’ knees and drew them apart, trailing his lips against his inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes wide as he stared at Derek in confusion.

“Firstly, I thought I’d show you what a pity it would be if they cut off my wicked tongue.”

 


End file.
